


The First Ship

by sunshinestealer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinestealer/pseuds/sunshinestealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Disciple muses on her relationship with The Signless. Multiple chapters, jumping from moments in their life together. Fluff, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Ship

It had been a rather long day for the huntress. The early sermon delivered by her matesprite had been beautiful, there was no doubting that. Even now, she was quietly repeating his words in her mind, thankful for the eidetic memory that she was gifted with.

Her hand languished over each page of her journal as she sought to capture his words, which had been so beautifully orated. She pitied those in the future who would not have had the experience of listening to them firsthand. 

His speeches stirred the souls of so many, sparks blazing in the dull eyes of the downtrodden and oppressed in Alternia’s fundamentally broken society. They were sparks of anger, for the card that life had dealt to them, as well as sparks of a joyous hope that stopped them cowering, now that there was a troll who would be brave enough to try and change this terrible world.

The Disciple had now penned many of his speeches across multiple journals, and even on cave walls. At first, the Signless had been rather reluctant. But when his matesprite insisted that his teachings should be recorded for ‘pawsterity’, he nodded thoughtfully. Following one successful mission in a nearby town, the Disciple purchased now only new paints, but an exquisite green leather-bound journal, an ink stone, and a new quill.

She was already having to write in a very small font to cram in all of the detail. Her eyes began to cross in fatigue, lines of text running into each other, and grammar mistakes becoming more and more prevalent. She quickly corrected them, before deciding it was enough for the night and heading towards the respiteblock she shared with the Signless.

Currently, the party of four were staying in a hive that had somehow not been razed to the ground by random highbloods who found it sporting to hunt lowbloods and nomads living in dwellings far away from ‘proper’ settlements. Of course, in this world, it was perfectly fine for sea-dwellers to live out in the middle of nowhere if they wished to, but lowbloods were much easier to keep an eye on and suppress if they were crammed uncomfortably into sprawling neighbourhoods of hive-stems.

He was already resting lightly inside of the recuperacoon, bobbing gently in the fluid. His matesprite rarely had the luxury of sleeping without any nightmares — the Disciple’s original dwelling had caved in, killing her lusus and forcing her into homelessness at the age of six sweeps. A shame. The Signless seemed to not be bothered by the darker thoughts that caused trolls to suffer from such terrifying visions in their sleep. In fact, the visions he had were of hope and a better world, where Alternia’s cycle of violence did not exist. 

The Disciple wished fervently that she was so lucky, when she twitched in a terrified stupor after her mind replayed the moment she had arrived home after the ground was rocked by a terrible but short-lived quake. 

Though there were nights where her dreams were much calmer. In these dreams, she saw snatches of images… a younger version of herself, maybe, floating around aimlessly in a dark kingdom. She’d try to describe the dreams to the Signless, but he’d always ruffle her slime-soaked hair and hold her close.

“You and I are more connected than I thought,” he once commented. “If we’re beginning to share dreams.”

The Disciple stripped, settling herself down into the recuperacoon beside her matesprite without trying to wake him up, and closing her eyes.

Hoping that the nightmares wouldn’t come tonight.

 


End file.
